


if the fates allow

by olive2read



Series: The 12 Bottles of Christmas [3]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Candy Canes, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Podfic Welcome, Rare Pairings, Snow in Schitt's Creek!, Tarot, Twyla & Café Tropical as a Cure for Loneliness, Twyla's Concoctions, Twyla’s Cousins & Related Shenanigans, Wine, Witchy!Twyla
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2020-11-08 18:27:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20840036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olive2read/pseuds/olive2read
Summary: Twyla isboredat the café, since the snow is keeping everyone at home, and she's eager to see where this new thing with Stevie leads. They share stories and a few bottles of wine. Also they're kinda falling for each other.__And featuring the next few bottles





	1. Monday

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [[art] if the fates allow](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21016049) by [nervouscupcakeinspace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nervouscupcakeinspace/pseuds/nervouscupcakeinspace). 
  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [SCFrozenOver](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SCFrozenOver) collection. 

> **Prompt**:  
Twyla gets lonely on the long cold winter nights at the café, when there are no customers and nothing to do. Stevie starts showing up, and keeps her company. All their rambling winter conversations in the dark, drinking wine and falling in love.
> 
> __  


Twyla looked down at the cards from her daily reading and smiled. She usually shuffled them back into the deck right away, so as to be ready for anyone, or anything, that might require a consult, but they were still on the counter where she’d laid them out this morning. It had been a slow day at the café, so there hadn’t been any need for counter space. Besides, she couldn’t quite bring herself to put them away as they so perfectly captured the myriad emotions that flushed through her whenever she thought about last night with Stevie. [1]

She never tried to predict what the cards would say but, considering that she’d finally kissed Stevie, the way she’d been wanting to for weeks, she was pretty sure she’d been expecting a reading like this. She bit her lip as a grin burst across her face. More than weeks. She’d had a crush on Stevie since before she’d known the word for the feeling. Twyla felt a momentary pang that it had taken them so long to get to know each other but she quickly brushed it aside. They were getting there now and there was no rush. Considering that there hadn’t been much opportunity before, they’d made excellent progress in the past few weeks. 

They’d always had so much in common, despite their disparate backgrounds, and she’d always admired Stevie’s ability to be herself under any circumstances – even during the awkwardness of high school. Twyla’s cousins were constantly being suspended from school for typical teenage prank stuff – like the time they’d used Uncle Harvey’s crane to dig up the goal posts on the football field. Somehow they’d flipped them over and set them back into the field upside down, then removed and shorted out the fuse to the crane’s fuel pump. That tiny fuse short meant that no one was able to fix the posts before the home game the next night. Stevie, on the other hand, had never been intentionally subversive, at least not to Twyla’s knowledge. She’d simply refused to let high school impact her life any more than absolutely necessary.

Twyla still got a little weak in the knees remembering how Stevie had constantly pushed the envelope on ‘acceptable’ uniform modifications. Some days she’d worn her tie loose, her white shirt unbuttoned. [2] Other days she’d replaced the awful sweater vests with her favourite flannels. She’d worn black converse and combat boots and, once, memorably, incredibly pointy black pumps – basically any black shoes other than the recommended boxy loafers. The school hadn’t even been able to suspend her for it, though they’d tried a few times and been roundly chastised by Nana Budd, since the uniform code was as badly written as the uniforms were ugly. The rewrites had gotten so heated during school board meetings that the administrators had ended up scrapping the idea of uniforms altogether and Stevie had become something of a local hero, although she’d hated the attention that had garnered her.

While her new status certainly hadn’t been the first time that Twyla had noticed Stevie, it had been the first time she’d taken more than a cursory glance; the first time she’d looked deeper than whatever interesting things Stevie had done to her uniform for the day. Twyla wasn’t exactly a model student but it had honestly never occurred to her to actively rock the boat. School had simply been something to be endured. After the whole uniform thing, however, she realised that playing by the rules didn’t have to mean conforming. Thanks to Stevie’s example, Twyla had spent most of her senior year in the woods, ostensibly working on an independent study project while in reality nurturing her sacred grove, gathering herbs, and connecting with the earth. 

That ‘project’ had cemented her desire to pursue more formalised study of the natural world around her. Comparative Herbology hadn’t been one of the approved courses of study at the Ontario Agricultural College, the closest school to Schitt’s Creek with the appropriate plant sciences facilities, but Twyla hadn’t let that stop her. Sure, she could probably have found a program further afield that would have more closely aligned with her interests but she needed to be close to Schitt’s Creek. Both to keep her [wards](/works/20981288/chapters/49891451#note6) powered and because her mom had already started losing track of people and things. 

Her mom’s boyfriends weren’t especially reliable caretakers and so Twyla had recruited some of the younger cousins to help keep an eye out when she couldn’t be there herself. Even so, her mom had once hitched a ride halfway to Toronto before they’d even figured out she was gone. By the time Twyla had caught up with her at a truck stop, she’d been sharing her favourite bong with a group of burly truckers and had somehow managed to convince one of them to take her to San Francisco. Someone was playing an acoustic guitar as they all swayed and sang happily about going there with flowers in their hair, while wearing little else, when Twyla pulled in. Twyla hadn’t even known her mom _knew_ about the ‘Rule of the Road’ but wow was she relieved that she’d thought to hitch with weed.

For all the challenges it had presented, being away at college had given Twyla a chance to discover just how wonderful being by herself could be. She’d always felt most like herself standing under the dappled light of her sacred grove, but she’d assumed that her spiritual practice and social persona were two distinct parts of her. She’d had to manage herself in crowds her whole life and had believed that her ability to do so stemmed from a love of being surrounded by people, the way she’d constantly been surrounded by mobs of cousins.

Stevie had always been a party of one during school and Twyla had never realised just how freeing it could be to exist in a space with people without feeling obligated to interact with them. The lesson had definitely served Twyla well when she moved home to Schitt’s Creek and took over management of the café, as solitude was often the rule rather than the exception.

She looked out the windows, scanning the street for any activity, but no one seemed to be braving the light flurries of the evening. Bringing her gaze back to the cards on the counter, she couldn’t help but smile once more. Just as complying with the letter of the uniform code while telling the spirit to fuck off had been so typically Stevie, seeing Death reversed in this reading was too. She wasn’t exactly change averse but she had strong feelings about what she liked and how she defined her life. Twyla knew that she’d recently sworn off romance entirely which, to be fair, made sense considering the ways the jerks she’d been dating had handled the last few attempts she’d made. Especially her most recent heartbreak. 

Twyla could honestly throttle Emir for the way he’d handled things. If she weren’t a good witch, determined to combat the forces of evil and entropy, and a firm believer in the [Rule of Three](/works/20981288/chapters/49891451#note4) … well. There was no sense in dwelling on the things she’d hypothetically do to someone who could treat her friend like that; no sense in putting that much focused negative energy out into the universe. That wasn’t the person she wanted to be. 

That said, she _was_ starting to fret, just the tiniest bit, about what last night had meant to Stevie and the appearance of the death card wasn’t helping her mind settle. Making out had been the realisation of so many of Twyla’s idle daydreams over the years and she very much wanted to pursue the connection she could feel between them. She also really wanted _Stevie_ to want that and that was the piece she wasn’t as sure about.

Twyla drew in a deep cleansing breath, pulling her shoulders down and back, and released some of the pent up energy and worry into the smoky quartz crystal she kept in her right pocket for just this sort of occasion. She then took hold of the sunstone in her left pocket to complete the circuit, absorbing the positive energy stored there and resetting her outlook. Stevie was going to be Stevie and there was nothing Twyla could do about that. What she could do was be herself and believe in herself, bolstered by the support of this morning’s reading. She just needed to trust her intuition in this.

As though summoned by Twyla’s determined affirmation, Stevie chose that moment to enter the café. Her eyes darted around shiftily and Twyla noted wryly how intensely her entire body relaxed when she realised there weren’t any other customers in the café. She put on her best smile, giving her sunstone an extra squeeze for luck, and Stevie finally met her gaze.

“Hey, Stevie,” she said, with just a hint of flirtation in her tone.

Stevie swallowed, her smile uncertain, and gave a shaky half wave. “Hey.”

They stood there in silence for a few moments and it seemed to Twyla that Stevie was still trying to decide if she wanted to be there. She kept her breathing even and steady, projecting positive energy, her left hand pressed reassuringly against the outside of her apron where she could feel the sunstone’s warmth, even through the various layers of fabric. 

After a moment Stevie nodded almost imperceptibly and, to Twyla’s pleased surprise, walked up to the counter, instead of her usual booth. She slung her bag on one of the stools before flopping down on the one directly in front of Twyla. Twyla took the opportunity to lean in. She moved slowly, so as not to startle Stevie, and even so Stevie’s eyes widened and she swallowed and licked her lips. Twyla tracked the movement and then, just as Stevie’s tongue dipped back inside her mouth, Twyla followed it with her own. She didn’t linger, merely wanted to say hello, but as she pulled back she felt Stevie’s hands in her hair, holding their faces together as Stevie opened for her and brought her own tongue back into play.

They broke apart reluctantly as George called out something to Twyla. “Be right there!” she called out, only a little breathless.

“You taste like bread pudding again,” Stevie said, gazing at Twyla’s mouth in wonder. 

Twyla felt a flush creep across her cheeks. “I had some a little while ago,” she replied, biting her lip to hide her grin as she remembered how she’d tried to recapture the flavour of Stevie’s mouth from the night before. She could feel by the stretch in her cheeks, and Stevie’s answering smirk, that she hadn’t succeeded. She gestured vaguely toward the kitchen and continued, “I should go see about that but I’ll be right back.” Stevie nodded.

George had somehow managed to disrupt the igniter while cleaning the griddle for the night. It probably only took a few minutes to get the thing dismantled but each passing second felt like an eternity to Twyla. Would Stevie still be there when she finished up in here? She focused on the warmth of sunstone in her pocket, calling to mind the feel of the edges and divots in the texture, as she helped George reassemble everything after testing the voltage. Stevie had kissed her back. Stevie would stay.

Sure enough, when Twyla popped back out front, Stevie was gazing down at the tarot cards with a puzzled expression. She looked up and smiled at Twyla.

“Um, you’ve got some, um, some,” she pointed at the side of her face. Twyla wiped at the spot but must not have been successful as Stevie came around and took the rag from her hand, then gently rubbed at a spot in front of Twyla’s ear. “There you go,” she said, handing the rag back with a grin.

“Thanks,” Twyla responded before leaning in to kiss her.

Stevie responded enthusiastically and they once more lost themselves in the moment. Stevie’s hands reached around and slid into the back pockets of Twyla’s jeans and gripped her ass, pulling her in a bit closer. Twyla’s hands twined into Stevie’s hair and tugged gently, eliciting a soft moan which Twyla swallowed down eagerly. She wished they were anywhere other than the café, wished she could do more than kiss Stevie right now, wished she had the space and time to take Stevie apart properly, but, alas, she still had an hour left of her shift. She pulled back grudgingly. No one other than Stevie had come in to the café for hours and part of her wanted to just say ‘fuck it’ and take Stevie home. It wasn’t like her to leave a task undone, however, and she knew she’d be angry with herself if she closed early.

She reached under the counter to pull out her secret stash of wine, figuring that if she didn’t feel right going home she could at least show Stevie the best possible time at the café. She brandished the Herb Ertlinger bottle triumphantly at Stevie and grabbed two glasses. Stevie’s eyes widened and she started to shake her head.

“Don’t worry,” Twyla told her reassuringly, “I have to hide the good stuff in these bottles or George will use it all for the boeuf bourguignon he makes his husband every week.” She gave both of them generous pours, then lifted her glass and took a surreptitious sniff to be sure she had, in fact, grabbed the correct bottle. It wasn’t a perfect system by any means and sometimes she still ended up with fruit wine in her glass. Stevie raised her own, clinking it against Twyla’s dubiously. “I promise it’s not fruit wine,” Twyla told her, not bothering to stifle her laughter. “It’s my favourite of the reds they sell at the Apothecary.” She nodded encouragingly as Stevie took a ginger sip, then giggled as Stevie’s eyes widened and she took a much larger second sip.

Stevie gestured at the cards. “So what’s all this mean?” she asked, taking another healthy sip of wine.

Twyla hesitated, unsure how much she ought to share, then decided to throw caution to the wind. If she, no, if _they_ were really doing this, then she wanted to be all in. “Well,” she began, “I did a reading this morning about us.” She paused, feeling her face heat and seeing Stevie’s eyes widen, but to her relief Stevie didn’t seem inclined to scoff and actually nodded at her to continue. She pointed to the first card. “So this is you.”

“I’m Death?” Stevie’s expression hadn’t changed but Twyla could hear a hint of hurt in her tone.

“No, no, not at all! That card represents major changes and when it shows up reversed, as it did here, it generally means that the person is holding on to old habits or is reluctant to make a change.” She wound down, realising that didn’t sound much better. She bit her lip and watched Stevie absorb the information.

“Wh-what if the person wants to change but doesn’t know how?” She finally asked, looking up at Twyla anxiously.

Twyla reached out and took her hand, relaxing when Stevie not only didn’t pull away but laced their fingers together and squeezed. “We’ll muddle through, together,” she said reassuringly, dipping her free hand into the pocket with the smoky quartz. She wasn’t sure what Stevie was holding on to but it clearly worried her and so Twyla used the connection between their hands to siphon off some of that energy and direct it down into the stone as they continued talking. 

Twyla explained the cards as best she could, making a mental note to offer Stevie a [sachet](/works/20981288/chapters/49891451#note5) or a stone of her own as soon as she could. They spoke and laughed deep into the night, long past Twyla’s remaining hour, barely noticing when George left, and finished not only Twyla’s bottle but one Stevie had brought with her.

As soon as Stevie had pulled the bottle out of her bag, Twyla had felt that something momentous was occurring but she was tipsy enough to hold off asking about it for the moment. They had time and Stevie’s lips were red and lush and right there and Twyla decided that she had better uses for them than talking about the [aura](/works/20981288/chapters/49891451#note1) emanating from the wine bottle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **1a** For general details on how I've used the cards here, please see [chapter 1](/works/20981288/chapters/49891829) of the addenda to this work.  
**1b** For specifics on how to interpret Monday's cards, [click here](/works/20981288/chapters/49891829#note16).  
[return to fic]
> 
> **2** For anyone curious about the inspiration behind Stevie's school uniform choices ... check out the **last photo** in [this insta post](https://www.instagram.com/p/B3Avh9eAUZv/?hl=en) from Emily.  
[return to fic]


	2. Tuesday

Twyla sighed and glanced around the café, looking for something – _any_thing – to do. Yet another wintry day with almost no customers to show for her time and she was more than a little bored. She’d cleaned the entire kitchen with George following the meagre lunch rush, she’d wiped down every table, chair, stool, and the counter (twice!), she’d swept, she’d dusted, and she’d even taken the entire coffee maker apart and scrubbed it with vinegar when no one had come in for dinner. They’d only had three customers since 2 pm – well, two customers for three orders of tea – it was nearly closing time, and there was no one in sight. She wandered over toward the windows and looked out at the snowy street but if there was anyone out and about in the cold, they weren’t coming to the café.

She’d sent George home half an hour ago and was just trying to keep herself busy until the official closing time, only an hour to go, when she could lock up and get herself home before the predicted overnight snowfall hit. She’d been hoping that Stevie would come by on her way home, as she had the previous night, but she’d been off work for awhile and there’d been no sign of her.

Twyla refused to read anything into it. She was just bored and sometimes that meant she worried; it had nothing to do with the implied lack of desire in the card she’d pulled for Stevie that morning, seemingly in direct conflict with the romantic idealism of the card she’d pulled for herself. They’d made out the past two evenings in a row and, as far as she could tell, things were going well. The cards could mean a lot of different things, and she’d also seen an indication that there was more to be explored between them which fit with her own intuition, so she just needed to keep herself occupied and not dwell. [1] She centred herself with her smoky quartz, bit her lip, and glanced around again. The café gleamed after all of her efforts today but surely there was something she’d missed.

She’d just started rearranging the space behind the counter when she heard the scuff of a step and a throat clearing behind her. She jerked up in surprise, not having heard the door, and smacked the top of her head against the underside of the counter. Shutting her eyes at the sharp flash of pain, she took a breath to steady herself and stood slowly, pressing a hand to the spot.

“Oh my god, Twyla, are you okay?” Stevie asked, her voice high and tight with concern.

Twyla opened her eyes to find Stevie standing next to her, eyes wide and arms out, one on either side of Twyla, as though she was preparing to brace her. “Yeah, Stevie, I’m fine.” She turned to head toward the fridge but stopped almost immediately when the room swayed. It wasn’t a spin, not really, just a slight wobble. Stevie’s arms came around her and she let herself be guided around to a stool with only a token protest. “You startled me, that’s all. I didn’t expect anyone to be in the café, especially not behind the counter.”

Stevie’s brow furrowed. “I called your name when I came in, but you didn’t answer, and then I heard a noise under the counter so I came to check it out and found you.”

Twyla cocked her head, puzzled. She didn’t always hear people come in but she always felt her [wards](/works/20981288/chapters/49891451#note6) and it didn’t make any sense that they hadn’t triggered when Stevie crossed the threshold. She shook her head and the pain reminded her she shouldn’t with a throb. She needed to ask Stevie … something … about the wards … but before she could get her thoughts in order, Stevie spoke up.

“Is there, like, a first-aid kit?” she asked, her eyes darting around the café without settling on anything before coming back to rest on Twyla.

Twyla started to nod but cut short the action when it increased the throbbing pulsations in her head. “In,” she took a deep breath as the pounding got worse, then continued grimly, “the kitchen.”

Stevie nodded vigorously and then hurried into the kitchen, coming back after only a few seconds with the kit. She set it gingerly on the counter and rummaged through it, glancing up at Twyla and biting her lip as she considered, then rejected each item.

“Hmm, you don’t seem to be bleeding, so I don’t think we need all this gauze,” she muttered, moving aside a bunch of rolls and pads and bandages. “This isn’t a snakebite, or an allergic reaction, or a burn ...” She looked up at Twyla with a hint of frustration. “Don’t you have any pain meds in here?” she asked, plaintively.

“There should be some Tylenol, yeah, but maybe just get me some ice?” Twyla gestured for Stevie to pass the first-aid kit and reached in, locating the Tylenol packets by feel. She didn’t withdraw them immediately, however, not wanting to hurt Stevie’s feelings.

Stevie bobbed her head. “Ice, yeah, okay, I can do ice.” She dashed off toward the kitchen, Twyla could hear her opening the freezer, slamming it closed again, and then she was back. “Um, are there like, towels, or something?” she asked.

“By the sink.” Twyla had barely finished speaking before Stevie was gone again. She took advantage of Stevie’s slightly longer absence to pull the Tylenol out of the first aid kit. This time when Stevie returned she had a dish towel so full of ice that she couldn’t actually wrap it closed. She offered it to Twyla as though it were someone else’s baby with a soiled diaper, knowing it would be rude to simply drop it and back away, but also not wanting to be too closely associated with it. Twyla accepted the towel, dumped three quarters of the ice on to the floor behind the counter, figuring she’d mop tomorrow, and wrapped the rest carefully in the towel, before pressing it to the sore spot on her head.

Stevie stepped back with a serious look. “Is there anything else you need?”

“Maybe a glass of water to take these?” she held up the Tylenol.

Once more, Stevie disappeared into the kitchen. She came back with a tall glass of water and Twyla realised that she was still wearing her hat and coat, and carrying her messenger bag.

She was feeling better by this point. She wasn’t sure if it was just that she’d needed to sit still for a moment or if it was thanks to Stevie and her efforts to help. It really felt good to have Stevie fussing over her, even if her ‘fussing’ looked a little more like a freak out than tender caring. Twyla attempted a smile and felt it widen with pleasure when it didn’t make the pain worse. She set down the ice pack and looked up at Stevie through her lashes.

“Hey, Stevie,” she said, holding out her hand. Stevie reached her own out to clasp it, and Twyla pulled gently. Stevie took the hint and stepped closer, coming to stand between Twyla’s legs as they opened to accommodate her.

“Hey, yourself,” Stevie told her, a tentative smile playing about her lips.

Twyla leaned forward, tilting her head up ever so slightly and felt a thrill go through her when Stevie’s smile grew firmer and she mirrored the motion, pressing her lips softly to Twyla’s. 

“Are you really ok?” she asked, pulling back after a moment with concern in her eyes.

Twyla smiled at her. “I really am.” She considered Stevie for a moment, then bit her lip mischievously and raised an eyebrow. “You know, if you want to be sure, you could keep me company? Make sure I stay awake for awhile in case I have a concussion?”

Stevie slid her hands up Twyla’s thighs. “Hmm. However will I manage that?” she asked, a saucy gleam in her eye as she kissed Twyla again. 

“Well, for starters, why don’t you set down your bag and take off your coat?”

Stevie huffed a laugh and rested her forehead against Twyla’s, pulling back right away at Twyla’s wince. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I can’t believe I forgot already!” Her eyes searched Twyla’s and Twyla laughed at the expression on her face. It hurt, a little, to laugh, but it was so worth seeing Stevie’s face go from pinched with anxiety to relaxed, if a bit sheepish. She stepped away, taking her bag off to set it on the counter and shrugging out of her coat.

Removing the outer layer seemed to also allow her to release the tension she’d been carrying. Stevie took a deep breath and her shoulders relaxed slightly for the first time since she’d surprised Twyla earlier. She gave Twyla an arch look and then dug around under the counter, frowning when she didn't find what she was looking for. Before Twyla could ask her what she needed, Stevie had pulled a bottle of wine out of her bag, waved off Twyla’s mention of a corkscrew and simply pushed the cork down into the bottle with her thumb. She took a hefty swig and waggled her eyebrows at Twyla. 

“I’d offer to share,” she said, with a look of mock solemnity, “but you shouldn’t mix alcohol and pain meds.”

Twyla thought there might be a hint of the dark [aura](/works/20981288/chapters/49891451#note1) she’d felt around the wine bottle from the night before, but her head was still a little woozy and she decided to wait to bring it up until she was sure there wasn’t anything wrong with her brain. Auras were sensitive creatures and the slightest disturbance could easily muddle a reading.

She crooked a finger and Stevie came willingly, bottle in hand. When she was close enough, Twyla wrapped a fist in her flannel shirt and pulled her in for a kiss, licking into her mouth and chasing the rich flavour of the wine. Stevie kissed her back enthusiastically and they spent the rest of the night talking and laughing, Stevie generously granting Twyla sips of her mouth instead of sharing her wine. They were both delicious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **1a** For general details on how I've used the cards here, please see [chapter 1](/works/20981288/chapters/49891829) of the addenda to this work.  
**1b** For specifics on how to interpret Tuesday's cards, [click here](/works/20981288/chapters/49891829#note17).  
[return to fic]


	3. Wednesday

Another long day of winter, another long day of no customers and nothing to do. Twyla leaned onto the counter, resting her chin on her palm, and tried not to frown at the doors that weren’t opening. The café was spotless, her [wards](/works/20981288/chapters/49891451#note6) hummed with strength, she’d given George a week off to spend time with his family on Manitoulin Island, and she was seriously considering closing early and taking a vacation for herself.

She hadn’t had a vacation in at least five years. More, probably, since the last time she could remember was when she’d taken two weeks off in Montreal for her birthday. Oh, and, of course, to be Maid of Honour at Trixie’s wedding. Her memories of the combined birthday/bachelorette were a bit hazy but she _had_ really enjoyed the French lessons she’d gotten from that sweet friend of the groom’s ... Christelle? Christine? All that practising where to put her tongue and how to hold her mouth had improved her usage in a way that three years in high school had failed to.

The sound of the door banging open pulled her from her reverie but, to her chagrin, no one came inside. It must have blown open somehow. She sighed and went to close it, casting a lingering look up and down the street before she did. She’d been trying to manifest another visit from Stevie all evening but, as she ought to have known from this morning’s reading, it didn’t seem to be in the cards for today.

The Hanged Man wasn’t anywhere near as big an obstacle to overcome in their path as Death and on Monday, even with the Death card, Stevie had sought Twyla out. Plus today she also had the Fool on her side, so surely another visit wasn’t too much to ask? She bit her lip. Maybe the Hanged Man was a sign that she needed to be the one to initiate things today, that she should follow her desire to close up the café and find Stevie. [1] Hmm, or maybe she should make herself yet another cup of tea to see if the leaves could help her determine which course was the right one. She shook her head at herself. Or, more likely, maybe she was bored and just needed something to occupy herself with.

As though summoned by her desire for company, her cousin Teresa came in just as she was pouring hot water over the leaves, figuring it couldn’t hurt to at least _look_ at them. Terry’s face was almost entirely obscured by the enormous gum bubble she was blowing and so she waved at Twyla instead of responding verbally to her greeting. She dumped a bag on the counter, blowing a small and steady stream of air into the bubble all the while, and then flounced back out with another small wave as she left, somehow managing to maintain the bubble bobbing in front of her face. Twyla was impressed. She’d known Terry had finally decided to compete in the annual Bubble Blow-Out next spring but she hadn’t realised how much progress Terry had made. She might just have a chance at a podium placement.

Twyla opened the bag and smiled. Her shipment of [angelica](/works/20981288/chapters/49895951#note8) was here! Normally she grew her own but she hadn’t had a chance to bring the pot inside before the unexpected snowfall had blown in and it had perished. She dug out the other ingredients she needed for the protection [sachet](/works/20981288/chapters/49891451#note5) from her stores in the kitchen and set to work. [[Sachet Recipe]](/works/20981288/chapters/49891931#note14)

Five minutes later, she had a very pretty beribboned little pouch full of good, strong herbs. She bit her lip, wondering if she should add a bit more [clove](/works/20981288/chapters/49895951#note9) to the mix to make it more festive and then rolled her eyes at herself. She’d gotten the proportions right, she could feel it. She was probably just anxious because she didn’t know how Stevie would feel about this. Still, she couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that she needed to do something more. She checked her tea leaves and sighed. There was no inspiration there. She struggled with this type of [working](/works/20981288/chapters/49891451#note7) at the best of times and today her mind was too muddled to petition the leaves properly.

Well, no matter. She didn’t really need the leaves to point out her path. She knew that she’d regret closing up early and promised herself that she’d knock on Stevie’s door on her way home tonight. Decision made, she cleaned the herb debris off the counter and made herself a cup of cocoa. She was stirring it lazily with a candy cane, contemplating the bundles of [mistletoe](/works/20981288/chapters/49895951#note10) she’d made to stash around town when she made her ward circuit on her way home tonight, when the door opened again. She felt her smile across her whole face as she looked up to see Stevie entering furtively.

“Stevie!” she called out in delight.

“Hey,” Stevie replied quietly, meeting Twyla’s eyes but looking away again almost immediately. “I didn’t feel like cooking tonight and I wondered what the special might be,” she said to her hands, fidgeting with the strap of her bag.

Twyla felt a glow spreading out from her chest, boosted by the answering pulse of the sunstone in her pocket. Stevie looked up when the [energetic field](/works/20981288/chapters/49891451#note2) expanded sufficiently to include her and this time there was a tentative smile on her face and her hands slowly stopped their wringing, falling relaxed to her sides. Twyla could feel the uncertainty emanating from Stevie, along with that same odd [aura](/works/20981288/chapters/49891451#note1) she’d seen the past two nights, and it didn’t faze her for a moment. Stevie’s odd behaviour, not to mention the transparent excuse that Twyla didn’t buy for a second, had more or less confirmed that this thing between them was just as powerful on her end. Twyla was well aware that Stevie _never_ felt like cooking, she’d seen what was – or, rather, what wasn’t – stored in her kitchen, after all. 

Twyla could feel her smile broaden with joy until her eyes were nearly overwhelmed by her cheeks. “Coming right up!”

She ducked into the kitchen and rummaged through the fridge, sending up a quick thanks to the universe for whatever had brought Stevie to the café. She wasn’t sure what she’d be able to scrounge up to feed them without George; she really had no desire to fire up the griddle and that temperamental beast really only worked well for him. Then again, she was fairly certain there was still some – aha! She pulled the tureen out of the fridge in triumph, gave herself a mental high-five when a quick sniff check told her it hadn’t gone off yet, and set about plating two servings of the noodles and stroganoff George had made a few days ago.

Once the microwave had finished heating them up, she headed back out to the café proper where Stevie was sitting at the counter in her trademark tank-and-flannel combo, having shed her coat and gloves, and was typing on her phone. She looked up as Twyla set a plate in front of her and smiled a little shyly, setting her phone aside. Twyla gave her a bright smile in return, pleased as punch when Stevie dug hungrily into her stroganoff. Twyla picked up her fork as well and paused when Stevie’s hand pressed lightly against her wrist. Looking up, she noticed a slight flush spreading across Stevie’s cheeks as she tilted her head toward the unoccupied stool beside her.

Twyla felt a thrill of pleasure run through her. She took off her apron and walked around to where Stevie was sitting, then leaned in and kissed her. Stevie’s hands reached out to grip Twyla’s hips and pull her closer as their tongues slowly got reacquainted. 

After a few moments, Twyla pulled back and smiled down at Stevie. “Hey,” she said softly.

“Hey,” Stevie replied, her answering smile wide.

“I’ve been wanting to do that all day,” Twyla told her, cupping Stevie’s jaw and brushing her thumb gently across Stevie’s cheek.

Stevie nuzzled into the caress, kissing Twyla’s thumb. “Me too,” she said. “I was so glad when I saw the lights on in here on my way home.”

“I’m so glad you came in.” Twyla kissed her again and then sat down, picking up her fork. Stevie reached out and took Twyla’s idle hand, interlacing their fingers.

They ate and chatted companionably for a few minutes, Stevie’s thumb rubbing along Twyla’s index finger, before Twyla remembered the wine. She jumped up and went around the counter to grab two glasses but when she reached under the counter for the bottle, she came up empty. 

“Oh,” she said, trying to stay cheerful. “I seem to be out of wine.”

Stevie grinned at her. “No worries, I brought some.” She pulled a bottle out of her bag and Twyla took an involuntary step back. The bottle was wreathed with the same murky aura that she’d seen around the last two, only this one looked stronger and darker. Whatever it was seemed to be growing in strength. Stevie furrowed her brow at Twyla’s expression. “I-I thought this was your favourite ... ?” she asked doubtfully.

Twyla took a deep breath. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound as they say. “Stevie,” she began, then stopped, unsure what to say.

Stevie’s face went still. She wasn’t frowning, she didn’t seem angry, her expression had simply flattened – a sure sign she was hurt – and Twyla scrambled for the words to explain before she closed herself off any further. “It’s cool,” Stevie said, though it clearly wasn’t.

Twyla reached out and put a hand over Stevie’s where they’d begun to fidget with her flannel. “No, I’m sorry. I just don’t know how to explain.” She paused and took another deep breath, willing herself calm. “The wine – you’re right, it _is_ my favourite, and thank you for bringing it.” Stevie opened her mouth but Twyla shook her head and continued. “It just, it has an aura, a-a dark murky aura.” 

Stevie frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Twyla bit her lip. “I-I don’t really know. Is there anything wrong, Stevie? Anything connected to the wine that you’re worried about?” She searched Stevie’s gaze, trying to will her to trust.

Stevie withdrew a bit further and Twyla’s heart sank. “Why would I be worried about the wine?”

“I don’t think it’s the wine, not exactly. I’m not getting a clear reading on it. It’s more something that you associate with the wine? Almost like there’s some dark energy that the wine absorbs for you? Oh! That reminds me!” She scanned the counter until her eyes lit on the sachet and the bundles of mistletoe. She grabbed the sachet and held it out to Stevie. 

Stevie looked at it sceptically but didn’t accept it. “What’s that?”

“It’s a protection charm. I-I made it for you, to block th-the aura of whatever the wine is absorbing.” Her smile faltered as Stevie blinked at her and shook her head. “It’s ok, Stevie, you don’t have to tell me what it is. Just know I’m here for you.”

Stevie pointed at the mistletoe. “And that? Is that also for protection?”

Twyla nodded slowly. “It is. Mistletoe is an excellent herb and I planned to drop those off around town on my way home. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but the past few years there’s been something slightly, I don’t know, _off_ somehow during Christmas and I’m trying to build some defences against it.”

Stevie’s eyes widened. “You ... you can feel that?”

Twyla cocked her head to the side and narrowed her eyes, trying to make sense of what was happening to Stevie’s aura. “Do you know what it is? Is it something to do with the thing that’s attached to the wine?”

Stevie shook her head and stood hastily, grabbing for her coat and bag and hurrying toward the door. “I should go.”

“Stevie, wait!” Twyla scrambled after her, catching up just as she reached the door. “Don’t go, not like this, Stevie.” Twyla pleaded. “I didn’t mean to upset you.” She reached out a hand to cup Stevie’s face and look deeply into her eyes. “We don’t have to talk about this. We can talk about anything else, please. I just want to spend more time with you.”

For a moment, it seemed that Stevie was going to change her mind but then something in her demeanour hardened and she wrenched her face out of Twyla’s grasp. “I-I can’t,” she said and fled. As the door closed behind her, Twyla thought she heard Stevie mutter, “Prolly just another blip, anyhow.”

She clenched her jaw, staring after Stevie, and channelling all the negativity from the past few moments into her smoky quartz. “You’re wrong, Stevie,” she said, quiet but firm. She closed her eyes and wrapped the warmth of the sunstone around her. “We’re not a blip and I _will_ keep you safe from this, whatever it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **1a** For general details on how I've used the cards here, please see [chapter 1](/works/20981288/chapters/49891829) of the addenda to this work.  
**1b** For specifics on how to interpret Wednesday's cards, [click here](/works/20981288/chapters/49891829#note18).  
[return to fic]


	4. Thursday

Twyla hadn’t been able to get the sight of Stevie leaving out of her mind. After last night, she hadn’t exactly needed the cards from this morning’s reading to tell her that Stevie was holding herself back from what was unfolding between them. Quite frankly, it was more than a little rude for the High Priestess to show up and rub that fact in her face but that was the risk she took, trying to do readings for herself. She thought she had a pretty solid handle on where things stood but the cards were always prone to emphasise her strongest feelings, as opposed to her path forward, when she read for herself. Still, everything from today had pointed not to an ending, thankfully, but to a need for patience, which she felt deep in her core to be the best option for now. [1]

Patience was, of course, easier to recommend than to practice, especially as yet another dreary day dragged on with only a few customers to break up the monotony of waiting and hoping. She’d done what she could to spend her time productively, channelling positive energy toward Stevie, burning a wreath of [sweet grass](/works/20981288/chapters/49895951#note13) and [mugwort](/works/20981288/chapters/49895951#note11), recharging her sunstone, and cleansing her smoky quartz. She’d also finished rearranging the café’s cupboards, come up with a new organisational system for the fridge, and created some potential new menu items to try once George got back. Even with all of those tasks completed, she still had hours to go before closing time which meant hours to fret over that last comment from Stevie.

She’d tried telling herself that she’d heard wrong but gave that up as a lost cause fairly quickly. She still remembered how annoyed Stevie had been when David referred to her as a ‘blip’ and how fast she’d adopted the term herself as a defence mechanism. Twyla couldn’t deny her hurt at the thought Stevie would categorise what was between them in the same way.

For her part, Twyla had been feeling more and more attuned to Stevie in the past months. It had started with spending so much time together during Cabaret, building on their shared history, and had culminated in a fierce and deep resonance the first time they’d kissed a few days ago. That resonance had grown, aligning more and more fully with each glance, each touch, each kiss. So even after the fumble last night, she was determined to find out where this thing between them could go. Stevie, on the other hand, was much more likely to chalk what they’d shared up to drunken shenanigans and pretend it had never happened.

_Stop this!_ she told herself sternly, lighting another sweet grass wreath. There was no point in catastrophising things that hadn’t happened yet. Besides, the cards were clearly on her side in this, despite today’s more lacklustre [grouping](/works/20981288/chapters/49891451#note3), and she took comfort in knowing that her intuition firmly believed it was more. She wasn’t sure _how_she was going to convince Stevie that the past few nights hadn’t been a blip but she was sure that she _could_.

It wasn’t going to happen tonight, though, if the snow beginning to fall more thickly was any indication. Twyla sighed as the wind kicked up outside. Her magic had never wreaked havoc on the weather before so she had to assume this wasn’t actually a manifestation of her mood, however accurate the reflection. Well, if it was going to get colder there was another thing she could do while her long-term plans for Stevie percolated in the back of her brain. She made herself a cup of cocoa, to soothe and settle her energy so she could focus on making something that would bring Stevie joy, then rummaged under the counter for her knitting bag.

She’d had a feeling this morning that she should bring the bag with her and now, looking at the snow and listening to the wind, it hit her that she hadn’t seen Stevie with a scarf for at least a year, maybe longer, and inspiration struck. Extracting the luxuriously soft wool yarn she’d been saving for something special, she tried to envision a pattern for Stevie.

It would need to be something other than her typical plaid, something colourful but not too bright. She wanted it to be something festive but not something that Stevie would feign gratitude for and never wear. Most of the yarn was a soft creamy ivory, threaded through with a silver that evoked the cheery sound of sleigh bells jingling in the moonlight. Twyla could only hope that some of protective energy of sleigh bells was also granted to her project. She also had two very precious skeins of a rich crimson which she knew would look spectacular contrasted with Stevie’s pale skin and dark hair.

Come to think of it, Snow White was a solid allusion here, considering that something dark was certainly following Stevie and Snow White _had_ been able to get the majority of the forces sent against her on her side. She contemplated the yarn, stroking its softness and thinking about how it would feel wrapped around Stevie’s throat, and then she got to work.

An hour later, she smiled down at what she’d made. It wasn’t quite finished but she was pleased with her progress and hadn’t even had to pull any stitches to redo. She carefully wrapped it and put it away, then tidied up the counter where she’d been working and washed her cocoa mug, popping the last unmelted piece of candy cane into her mouth.

She felt a momentary pang at the realisation that Stevie really was avoiding her tonight. _This is ok,_ she told herself, _if she needs space, I can give her space._ She wondered just where the line was for Stevie, as space was a delicate balance of giving enough without giving too much and reinforcing Stevie’s belief in the blip-nature of things. Her project wasn’t ready but maybe she could drop off some kind of peace offering. She wanted to leave the protection [sachet](/works/20981288/chapters/49891451#note5) but that felt more like pushing boundaries than respecting them. As she rolled the sharp minty sweetness of the candy cane across her tongue, it hit her.__

_ _She went into the kitchen to confirm that all the necessary ingredients were in stock, which they were, thanks to her getting ahead of the ordering with all the customer-free time the past few days. In no time at all she’d mixed the butter, sugar, and other ingredients together, then crushed a bunch of candy canes to add just that touch of sparkle, dropped them on to a baking sheet, and popped them in the oven._ _

_ _Forty-five minutes after she’d had the idea, she was wrapping up a dozen of her famous [Peppermint](/works/20981288/chapters/49895951#note12) Persephones and decorating the bundle with a spare bit of ribbon to match the one on the sachet - she might not be pushing that boundary but she saw nothing wrong with coordinating for the long term - and a sprig of [mistletoe](/works/20981288/chapters/49895951#note10). That last was a risk, seeing as she’d also told Stevie the night before that it was used for protection, but hopefully Stevie would see both parts of the offering and understand that Twyla also wanted to keep kissing her, to keep this thing between them fresh and strong. [[Cookie Recipe]](/works/20981288/chapters/49891958#note15)_ _

_ _She hummed contentedly along her walk home and dropped the parcel outside of Stevie’s place. She didn’t knock, wanting to ensure she was long gone up the stairs to her own place when Stevie found it, and so she simply sent a gentle tendril of energy into Stevie’s apartment. She’d expected to give Stevie a quick metaphorical tap on the shoulder as she headed up the stairs but when her tendril came into contact with Stevie’s essence, they coiled around each other in surprise and joy. For all her muttering about blips, it seemed Stevie was just as thrilled about Twyla as Twyla was about Stevie. Twyla allowed the joy to merge with her own and infuse her core, practically floating up the remaining two flights of stairs._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **1a** For general details on how I've used the cards here, please see [chapter 1](/works/20981288/chapters/49891829) of the addenda to this work.  
**1b** For specifics on how to interpret Thursday's cards, [click here](/works/20981288/chapters/49891829#note19).  
[return to fic]


	5. Friday

Twyla bit her lip and tried not to frown down at the cards in front of her. Something dark was looming over Stevie today and knowing that it was possible to avert the disaster on the horizon wasn’t especially reassuring. She allowed herself a moment to regret the way she’d handled the wine situation. She’d known there wasn’t any direct danger to her from the wine itself and her knee jerk response had so upset Stevie. She felt a slight pang at the decision not to include the protection sachet with the cookies she’d dropped off, then took a deep breath, dispelled the doubts and regrets into her smoky quartz, and redirected her energies. Yesterday was done and her attention would be better spent on things she _could_ control. She wasn’t sure what, exactly, the cards were suggesting she do but she wanted to be prepared to meet any challenges head-on. [1]

She felt a twinge in the [wards](/works/20981288/chapters/49891451#note6) around her apartment. For the briefest of moments, her heart leapt with hope that Stevie was here, reaching out to her, that she’d felt the brush of energy last night, that she was missing Twyla the way Twyla was missing her. She could tell by the feel of the ping that it wasn’t Stevie though and, stifling a sigh, she got up to answer her door. She opened it to find George’s nephew, Josué, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet in eagerness, his avid smile nearly engulfing his whole face. 

“Morning, Twyla!” he enthused. “Are you ready? I’m so excited for today! Thank you so much for this opportunity! This will be my first time managing all the moving parts in a _real_ restaurant! I can’t _wait_ to meet my first _real_ customers! Do you think anyone will be there when we first open?”

“Probably not when we first open,” she began. The intensity of his smile dimmed slightly and she added, “George told you it’s been pretty quiet, right?” She hoped, fervently, that George had given Josué a realistic set of expectations. 

His smile returned to full wattage. “Yeah, Uncle George said you had _TWENTY-FOUR_ customers last week! That’s so great! 

Twyla tilted her head to one side and regarded him, decided he was genuinely thrilled, and beamed back at him. “Yep! Well, I think it was 24 orders, not 24 customers,” she paused, then continued gently, “and they _were_ spread out over the entire week, so you might get a little bored today.”

He bounced a bit on his toes again. “Oh, that’s ok! I’m just so tickled that you and Uncle George want _me_ to help out! I can’t _wait_ to tell everyone back at school! They’re gonna be so jealous!”

Twyla smiled at him, marveling at his exuberance. George _had_ said Josué was going a little stir crazy at home, bouncing off the walls, reorganising his grandmother’s kitchen for maximum efficiency, putting everything back when she’d been horrified on her return from a holiday shopping trip to Elmdale, and regaling anyone he could pin down for more than a minute with stories about his culinary management course at Algonquin.

When she’d told George to take a week off, she’d assumed that she would just offer a limited menu as she had all of the other times she’d managed the whole café on her own. She and the griddle weren’t on friendly terms but the most popular food items in the café were the selection of fried appetisers and the assortment of soups, salads, and sandwiches, all of which she could handle on her own. She could also simply shut the café for the day, which she did regularly for Jazzagals rehearsals and shows. [2] Considering how slow things had been, she’d have been fully justified. When she’d started to explain that, George’s husband Enrico had looked like he was on the verge of tears and George had practically begged her to give Josué something to do. It was clear the family needed him to divert his boundless energy into something _away_ from the house.

So here she was, giving him a rundown on the most basic menu items and the quirks of the various appliances as he bobbed along in her wake, taking copious notes and exclaiming over every detail. She began to absorb some of the delight he was giving off in waves and the trepidation she’d felt after the morning’s reading slowly started to dissipate.

She presented him with an apron, which he accepted with all the solemnity of a formal ceremony, set him to work designing the placemats she hoped to roll out in the New Year, and then got to work on making her special ‘Salsa Tropicál’ for the party tonight. [[Salsa Recipe]](/works/20981288/chapters/50109680#note23)

Twyla had been a little sad when Jocelyn had specifically asked her _not_ to make her famous boozy eggnog for the Jazzagals Holly Jolly Jamboree. Apparently, in an effort to show Moira how much people appreciated what she’d done, Jocelyn had invited the entire cast of Cabaret and their families as well. She was understandably still hurting about the Crows movie and hadn’t been out and about much, so Jocelyn hoped to draw her interest with a party.

The presence of small children meant that alcoholic eggnog was a no-go, however, and so Jocelyn had suggested that Twyla bring chips and salsa to the party instead. Bless her heart, she’d told Twyla that store-bought salsa would be fine, no doubt thinking tomatoes were likely to be scarce at this time of year. Jocelyn probably had no idea that her cousin Gary grew anything apart from his potent Sweet Creek Skunk in his hydroponic greenhouse, but tomatoes were something of a specialty of Gary’s.

She dunked a chip into the salsa to taste it, then shimmied her shoulders in pleasure as the tart sweetness of the fruit burst across her tongue, followed quickly by the heat of the habañero. It was perfect. She offered some to Josué and knew she had a success on her hands when his eyes bulged, tearing up a little, and his face flushed to the tips of his ears. She wrapped the salsa carefully and headed home to get dressed, leaving the café in his enthusiastic, and hopefully capable, hands.

* * *

Twyla looked herself over in the mirror one more time, adjusted the tiara Alexis had given her, and exhaled. There was no reason to be this nervous. Stevie would probably be at this party, but it wasn’t like they’d never shared awkward spaced before, and Twyla wasn’t dressing for her, anyhow. Not much, anyway. She’d have worn the flowy emerald green dress regardless, as it was her go-to for fancy holiday parties. She loved the feeling of the satin against her skin, the way the fabric swirled around her as she walked, plus the shirred chiffon halterneck really showcased her shoulders and made her boobs look amazing. She put on her favourite green amethyst earrings, the ones with the pretty gold bows that always made her feel festive and bright, and paused for a moment to open herself to the compassionate love channeled through their energy. She pulled on her dark red suede boots, smiling at the cheery pompoms that hung from the laces in back, loving the way the wedges gave her some height without sacrificing a practical, grippy sole, and nodded to herself. She was ready, inside and out, for this.

When she arrived at the Schitts’s home, Jocelyn seemed somewhat dismayed to be presented with the enormous bowl of Salsa Tropicál but she was looking rather harried overall. Apparently, Ronnie had declined the invitation to the Jamboree, despite her principal roles in both the Jazzagals and Cabaret, citing previous plans to take Karen to the casino for a night of no-holds barred roulette. She’d somehow managed to convince Moira to join them, promising there’d be no repeat of the ‘Black Forest Tenders,’ and this had Jocelyn in a bit of a state. Twyla put a hand on Jocelyn’s arm and did what she could to say soothing things while channeling the energy of her amethysts toward calming the frazzled [aura](/works/20981288/chapters/49891451#note1) surrounding Jocelyn. 

She felt a sharp tug on her arm and turned to find Stevie’s hand on her arm. Her heart filled at the sight of Stevie, cheeks flushed prettily, and the knowledge that she’d come directly to Twyla as soon as she’d walked in. Then she took a closer look and noticed that Stevie’s eyes were a little too wide and glazed, her smile falsely large and bright.

Jocelyn nodded vaguely at her as she excused herself and Stevie practically dragged her into the kitchen where David was sitting on a chair, slumped against the cabinets, head pillowed on the arm resting on the counter next to the stove. He gave her a listless wave as she came in.

“Stevie, what’s--” she began but Stevie cut her off.

“You’ve gotta help me, Twyla,” she said, or at least that’s what Twyla _thought_ she said, her words were incredibly slurred.

It hit Twyla all of a sudden that Stevie was _drunk_. Not a little bit tipsy, as Twyla had seen her before, but full-on _HAMMERED_. She grabbed on to Twyla’s arms to look pleadingly at her, and the force of her breath fumes nearly knocked her over. She wobbled and Twyla caught her. It was a wonder she’d been steady enough on her feet to pull Twyla in here.

“Of course, Stevie, anything you need. What happened? Are you and David alright?” 

Stevie made this odd swirling motion with her head that wasn’t a nod but sort of looked like one. She explained, speaking slowly and struggling to enunciate, that Jocelyn had asked her to bring spiced cider but Stevie had misunderstood and brought _spiked_ cider, having filled the large punch bowl on the counter with some applejack from Dane’s uncle Mike. Or at least, that was how Twyla interpreted, “thum a Daneth ncle Miketh pplejack.” Stevie paused to catch her breath and swayed woozily.

“S thuh wooooorssst,” David chimed in.

Twyla blinked at them. “Mike’s Applejack?” she asked. Stevie nodded vigorously, then stopped when the motion made her stumble. Twyla gripped her more tightly. “Stevie, that-that stuff is like _varnish_. I thought Jocelyn didn’t want alcohol at this party?”

“Sssshe dinn tell me!” Stevie exclaimed. “Ssso David n I tried a drink it b-b-bu thhereth too much! You gorra helllpus” She gestured wildly at a large punch bowl, still more than half full of murky brown liquid.

Twyla could feel her eyebrows drawing together and consciously smoothed her brow. More questions were not what the situation needed right now. She helped Stevie lean against the wall, where she immediately began to slide toward the floor, then picked up the punch bowl and walked it carefully over to the sink, dumping its contents.

“Ermagawd!” David cried. He flailed an arm sulkily toward Stevie. “Why dinn we dump it?”

Stevie shook her head mutely, looking up at Twyla in wonder. Twyla smiled gently down at her. “Alright, love, I think it might be best if you had something to eat and then maybe we should get you home, eh?”

Stevie smirked at her. “Whar you gonn do with me aah home?” Twyla just raised a brow at her and shook her head fondly.

Leaving them in the kitchen, she ventured back out into the party. She grabbed her coat, so she’d be ready to go as soon as Stevie was a little more sober, then headed toward the buffet table and made up a plate of things that were unlikely to upset the no-doubt delicate stomachs awaiting her. This, unfortunately, meant that Stevie probably wouldn’t be able to eat any of the salsa she’d made. She waved greetings at various Jazzagals, miming chewing a mouthful of food to prevent deeper conversations, and went back into the kitchen as quickly as she could. 

After plying both Stevie and David with food, interspersed with liberal sips of water, she helped Stevie to stand and clasped her hand firmly. “Let’s get you home,” she murmured, kissing Stevie lightly on the cheek. She turned to David. “Are you alright, David? Do you need me to call Patrick?”

David shook his head and held up his phone. “S zon is way.”

She nodded and patted him comfortingly on the arm. “Stevie, where is your coat?”

Stevie pointed at the other kitchen chair and Twyla retrieved the coat, along with her toque and gloves, then helped her put everything on. She directed Stevie toward the Schitt’s back door.

The outside air was cool but seemed to have lost some of the biting chill that had been present earlier in the week and Twyla hoped this was a sign of positive things to come in the next few days.

Stevie started off leaning heavily against her side but was soon able to walk, more or less, on her own. As they approached the park in the town centre, Twyla realised with dismay that she’d _completely_ forgotten about the stables and corral for the various animals set to participate in the town’s live manger scene during the Holiday Pageant this weekend.

The complex may have been temporary but it sprawled across the park green and blocked their path. It had been built, and rebuilt, three times as different local farms had loaned additional animals for the festivities. No one had realised that the emus were kicky, and would _not_ get along with the llamas, who spit their displeasure at anyone that came too close, or that the goats would infuriate of the other animals, as well as the human coordinators, and constantly escape, or that the alpacas would hold themselves aloof and refuse to mix with any of them. 

Twyla signed and turned to go around but Stevie plunged forward and nimbly climbed up and over the closest stile, dropping to the other side with only a small stumble.

“Stevie!” Twyla called. “What are you _doing_?”

“S fine, Twy,” Stevie said, striking out boldly across the enclosure, “th’animals are sleep in there.” She threw a hand up in the direction of the stables and kept walking.

Twyla considered for a moment before hiking up her skirt and following. She hurried after Stevie, profoundly hoping that she was right, as none of the animals seemed to be out and about. They were likely all snuggly asleep inside the stable. 

They’d nearly made it across to the other side when Twyla caught sight of an emu standing between them and the fence. It raised its head and was suddenly twice the height it had been a moment before. It cocked its head slightly to the side, neck feathers puffed out, as it regarded them. Twyla grabbed Stevie’s arm and yanked her to a halt. The emu opened its mouth and made an odd rumbling noise, kind of like a car trying to start, where the engine was not quite catching, but deeper. [3]

Twyla backed up a step, dragging a protesting Stevie and trying to hush her. The emu made the noise again and took its own step back and Twyla allowed herself to exhale.

“Ok, I think it’s going to ignore us if we don’t get any closer,” Twyla said.

Stevie rolled her whole head at Twyla, not just her eyes. “S’fine, Twy,” she said, “they’re friendly.”

Twyla shot another look at the emu, whose neck feathers were still puffed threateningly, and shuddered. ‘Friendly’ wasn’t the word she’d have chosen but it wasn’t worth disputing the point right now. “Let’s just get out of here,” she said, edging a little further from the emu and closer to the gate.

She gave Stevie a boost to help her get onto the stile and started to climb up after her. As Stevie slid down the other side, her foot slipped and knocked the gate latch open. She sat down heavily on the ground, giggling, as the gate swung wide. Twyla sighed and finished climbing over herself. At least the emu was still giving them a wide berth and none of the other animals were out and about.

She bent and got an arm around Stevie, helping her to stand, then turned to close the gate.

With dawning horror, she saw that the emu had wandered out and was blithely sauntering along the street away from them. A few goats, who must have come to investigate the noise, were also beginning to roam. She took a few steps toward the animals and the emu reared up, neck feathers out as that odd rumbling noise started up again.

Twyla looked over at Stevie, who was leaning against the fence, doubled over in laughter, and then back at the animals that were quickly dispersing through town. She held a rapid, and somewhat heated, internal debate about what to do. There was no way she would be able to round them all up and get them back inside on her own and, ultimately, that was what decided her. If she left things as they were, or tried to resolve them through non-magical means, then there would probably be extensive damage and potential injury to people, or animals, or both.

She centred herself, drawing on the energy in her amethysts to help her connect into the higher realm of the universe, and focused on the course of action most likely to serve the greater good. It wasn’t a guarantee against repercussions, and Twyla didn’t want to think about what this might look like revisited [three-fold](/works/20981288/chapters/49891451#note4), but it was the best she could do under the circumstances.

Taking a deep breath, she put as much commanding force into her voice as she could and said calmly, “I need all of you to go back inside the corral. Go back inside, back to the warm stable, where you can rest.” For a moment, nothing happened.

The goats began wandering back toward the fence; the emu cocked its head at her.

She stood firm and looked at each of them in turn, repeating, “I need all of you to go back inside the corral. Go back inside, back to the warm stable, where you can rest.”

The emu’s neck feathers deflated and it stopped making its noise. It regarded Twyla curiously. The goats made it inside the gate.

Twyla stared down the emu and said for the third time, “I need all of you to go back inside the corral. Go back inside, back to the warm stable, where you can rest.”

The emu took a few steps toward them and Twyla moved, just enough, so that she was standing between it and Stevie, just in case. It continued to watch her as it turned and headed back into the corral, looking for all the world as if it had simply decided to comply with her request, instead of being compelled to do so.

Twyla closed and latched the gate, only then allowing her shoulders to relax and her breathing to return to normal. She turned to find Stevie staring at her, mouth agape.

“H-how did you do that?” she asked, suddenly sounding a lot more sober than she had a moment ago.

Twyla bit her lip, wondering how much she should say, if more talk of magic would make Stevie retreat from her again. She didn’t want this to be the reason that Stevie decided this wasn’t for her, but she would also rather know now if that was going to happen. She couldn’t - wouldn’t - deny who she was, no matter how right being with Stevie had felt up to this point.

She took a deep breath and said quietly, “I’m a witch, Stevie.”

Stevie kept staring at her expectantly and Twyla wasn’t sure what more to say. After a moment, Stevie gestured at her to go on, saying, “I know, Twy, obviously, but how did you do _that_?!?”

Twyla felt her own mouth drop open in shock. “You _know_?”

Stevie scoffed at her expression. “Of course!” 

Twyla could only shake her head in response and Stevie’s face softened. She reached out a hand, which Twyla clasped tightly in her own. 

“You’ve always been kinda magical, Twy, you know that,” Stevie said, using their linked hands to pull her closer, “always a little more aware of things than you should’ve been, or more in tune, really.” She kissed Twyla lightly, just the barest brush of lips but Twyla felt it electrify every single nerve ending in her body. “I just had no idea you were _so_ competent, so effective, so incredible.” She smiled sheepishly at Twyla. “Though, honestly, I should’ve known.”

“Wh-why should you have known?” Twyla asked, still a little nonplussed.

Stevie kissed her again, letting her lips linger for a moment on Twyla’s. “Because I’ve spent the past few weeks realising something I think I’ve known, deep down, for years.” She locked her gaze on Twyla’s. “You’re the heart of this town, Twyla. You’re what keeps everything flowing smoothly.” She shook her head ruefully. “I’m sorry about the other day. I should’ve told you--”she stopped, shuddering. Twyla felt a shivery twinge of ... _something_, something dark, the same something she’d seen around the wine bottles, she realised. “Well, I need to tell you some things but I don’t know--” Stevie stopped again, overcome by another, more forceful, shudder.

This was not good. Whatever it was, it clearly didn’t want Stevie to tell her. She felt the cold night air creeping in around them and decided that it was more important to get Stevie home, safe and warm, than to push for this here and now.

“Tell me tomorrow,” she said. “For now, let’s get home.”

To Twyla’s relief, the rest of the walk home was quiet and uneventful. Stevie started to lose steam as they trudged up the stairs of their building and, after the third time she’d fumbled them, Twyla took her keys from her and got her inside. She took off her coat and helped Stevie undress, then tucked her into bed, humming softly.

“What is that?” Stevie asked sleepily. “Sounds like 'Songbird.'” [4]

Twyla was caught off guard and blinked down at her. She’d always loved that song but not many people could recognise it after only a few bars. “Oh! It-it is. That’s always been my favourite Fleetwood Mac song, ever since I was a little girl. My dad used to roadie for them and he would sing it to me sometimes.”

“Mmmm?” Stevie replied. “My dad loved them, too. Huge fan. I’m named for her, you know?”

“Christine?” Twyla asked, confused.

Stevie giggled. “No, Stevie. Stevie Nicks. ‘S my namesake.” Her brow furrowed. “No, I’m hers.”

Twyla felt another thread of connection thrum between them as she leaned down and kissed Stevie on the forehead. “We should _definitely_ talk more about this but, for now, get some sleep.”

Stevie reached for her. “Stay?” she asked, her eyes not even open any longer.

Twyla smiled. “Of course.” She stood and pulled of her dress, then unlaced her boots and set them by the side of the bed. Crawling in beside Stevie, she wrapped her arms around her and kissed her temple lightly. They were both asleep in moments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **1a** For general details on how I've used the cards here, please see [chapter 1](/works/20981288/chapters/49891829) of the addenda to this work.  
**1b** For specifics on how to interpret Friday's cards, [click here](/works/20981288/chapters/49891829#note20).  
[return to fic]
> 
> **2** I have ALWAYS wondered what happens at the café when Twyla is spending time doing other things, as she never seems to take a specific day off in canon and yet she is actively involved in _so many_ town happenings. This is my hc.  
[return to fic]
> 
> **3** Yes, emus really do nearly double in height, puff their neck feathers out, and make a rumbling noise when they’re unhappy! Luckily, Twyla and Stevie didn’t piss off the one they encountered quite as badly as the cameraperson taking [this video](https://youtu.be/rrsrjYywY6Y) did ...  
[return to fic]
> 
> **4** The song Twyla sings to Stevie is [“Songbird” by Fleetwood Mac](https://youtu.be/wTi19MPOvDw). Yes, it’s a Christine song cuz Twyla’s not the one named for Stevie Nicks ...  
[return to fic]


	6. Saturday

Twyla woke before the sun, as was her custom most winter days, but she allowed herself a moment to luxuriate in the warmth and closeness of Stevie’s body, instead of jumping out of bed right away. The sunrise would come soon enough, whether she performed her morning ritual or not, whereas there would never be another first time waking up next to Stevie. If Twyla got her wish, she’d have many more of these mornings but, even so, none of them would be this first time again.

She closed her eyes, nuzzling her nose into the nape of Stevie’s neck, and inhaled deeply. There was a faint hint of apples, no doubt a remnant of the spiked cider, a rich chocolatey undertone, and an elusive deep fruitiness, black cherry perhaps? Twyla spent a moment just breathing her in, not working all that hard to place the scents as, really, the thing Stevie most smelled of was her enticing, sexy self.

Twyla lingered for a little longer before reluctantly dragging herself out of bed. However much she wanted to stay in bed with Stevie for the entire day, she was full of restless energy and knew she would just fidget and rustle if she stayed horizontal any longer.

Stevie barely stirred as she got up; the poor love would probably have a nightmare of a hangover and that gave Twyla an idea. She slipped her dress over her arm, picked up her boots, and tiptoed to the door, wrapping herself in her coat for the short walk up to her own apartment. She was unlikely to encounter anyone this early and, besides, her winter coat provided quite a bit of coverage.

Once inside her apartment, she set to work making her favourite hangover cure breakfast - a delicious runny rice porridge with eggs and spam. Putting the rice on the stove to simmer, she showered and dressed, then went through her morning rituals. By the time she’d finished, the porridge was ready for its second simmer. She tossed in a few handfuls of diced spam, some minced ginger, and a splash of fish sauce, then set it back on the burner. [[Porridge Recipe]](/works/20981288/chapters/50175797#note26)

She felt a twinge against her [wards](/works/20981288/chapters/49891451#note6) and smiled to herself at the knock that soon followed. Josué was right on time. She put the kettle on next to the porridge and went to open the door.

She invited him in for a cup of cocoa and he bounded happily inside, babbling at her about the caramel macchiato, two sandwiches, and four cups of tea he’d made the day before, from which she surmised that Patrick had picked up a lunch order and Alexis had likely talked Josué’s ear off. He confirmed this a moment later when his eyes went big and soft as he described the shiny hair and bright, pale eyes and flawless skin of someone who could only be Alexis. If she’d been working, it would have worried her to have so few customers but Josué was clearly excited that he’d had _any_.

When they’d finished their cocoa, and Josué was finished regaling her with the various pointers Alexis had given him on his placemat design - all of which sounded pretty great to Twyla, she sent him happily on his way. He seemed just as excited as he had the day before so Twyla figured she could get away with a leisurely breakfast with Stevie, so long as she wasn’t in any rush to get to the motel.

She put some onions on the stove to caramelise, fried up some more spam, and got out a couple of eggs. Once everything was ready, she cracked an egg each into two bowls, gave both a quick stir, set them on a tray with some cocoa mix and candy canes, then headed back down to Stevie’s apartment.

It didn’t look like Stevie had moved, even though Twyla had been gone for over two hours. Twyla set the tray on the kitchen counter, put the kettle on, and pulled out Stevie’s french press. When the coffee was ready, she filled a mug, filled another glass with water, and put both beverages on the tray to take over to the bed, along with a bowl of porridge. 

She nudged Stevie’s shoulder gently and was rewarded when a baleful eye cracked open. The glare receded as Stevie focused on Twyla and a corner of her mouth tilted up. She reached a hand toward Twyla, who clasped it in her own and brought it to her lips and kissed it.

“Time is it?” Stevie mumbled, her smile growing.

“A little before nine,” Twyla answered. Stevie groaned in response and turned her face into the pillow, then back toward Twyla. A lock of hair had fallen over her face and Twyla reached out to smooth it back behind her ear. “There’s breakfast,” she said.

Stevie’s brow furrowed and her face went a bit grey. “I-I don’t know if I should eat.”

Twyla smiled at her and leaned in to kiss her forehead. “It’ll help, I promise. Just take it slowly.” 

She helped Stevie sit up and handed her the water glass first. After a few sips, Stevie gestured for the porridge and Twyla handed her a bowl. Stevie ate the first couple of bites carefully, not trusting the porridge to stay down, but quickly grew more confident and was soon slurping contentedly. They ate quietly together, smiling back and forth.

When they’d finished breakfast, Twyla cleared the dishes as Stevie got dressed and then they walked to the café together. Stevie gave Twyla a lingering kiss, tugging on her bottom lip slightly as she pulled back, clearly reluctant to separate. Twyla smiled at her and booped her nose, causing Stevie to roll her eyes fondly and step back. She waved and turned toward the motel as Twyla went inside.

Josué seemed to have the café well in hand. He proudly presented her with a mockup of the placemats he’d been working on - apparently Alexis had been in before her job that morning and had given him a few tips on his unveiling strategy, and Twyla was suitably wowed. She couldn’t wait to roll these out in the New Year. George and Enrico would be so proud.

She sent Josué to Ray’s to order a batch printed and laminated and tied on her apron. Taking advantage of the lack of customers, she reached under the counter for her tarot deck and shuffled. She smiled to herself, brimming with joy at the knowledge that she would see Stevie again at the end of the day. She realised she was humming ‘Songbird’ to herself again, the tune a bit jauntier than normal, as she selected her three cards.

She nibbled on her lip at the sight of the Knight of Swords and decided she should take extra precautions with shielding tonight before Stevie told her the dark story she’d been holding back. The next two cards weren’t remotely surprising, considering her mood since waking. She was happily set upon her path, Stevie hadn’t hesitated to reach out to her for help last night, despite their previous setback, and her revelation hadn’t pushed Stevie away. Plus, she thrilled to see that finally, _finally_, the Lovers were showing up, no doubt thanks to the additional connections they’d forged last night. [1]

She floated dreamily through the rest of the day. Josué took and filled orders with his perpetually eager efficiency, Alexis visited and chattered happily about her most recent client success, and Twyla was left with little to do besides sip cocoa. Her thoughts turned to Stevie and she wiled away the hours in daydreams. For the first time that week, the day seemed to glide by with ease as she hummed to herself, sucked on the candy cane she was using to stir her cocoa, and thought about Stevie.

They locked up and she wandered home, humming and thinking about Stevie. When she got home, she scanned through her collection until she found the vinyl of Rumours and set it playing, singing along softly as she sautéed the ground meat. She thought of Stevie as she added an extra clove of garlic (or four), mused about what the evening might hold as she sprinkled in spices, and reset the needle before she rolled out her pastry. [[Tortière Recipe]](/works/20981288/chapters/50379575#note27)

She popped the Tortière in the oven and began to set up her cleansing preparations. She wasn’t entirely sure what this evening’s promised reveal would entail but she wanted to be ready to combat whatever dark energy had its hooks in Stevie. She wouldn’t allow it to consume her girlfriend, that was a pleasure Twyla was reserving for herself, thank you very much. 

She set up a few black [candles](/works/20981288/chapters/49891451#note28), along with some of her special indigo-purple candles, around her apartment in a subtle but effective warding pattern. She placed a small wreath of [mugwort](/works/20981288/chapters/49895951#note11) and [sweet grass](/works/20981288/chapters/49895951#note13) in the incense burner on her coffee table. Surveying her preparations, she nodded to herself in satisfaction and jumped in the shower to wash away any lingering traces of the café.

As she was pulling on her favourite pair of sweats, she felt a twinge in her wards followed almost immediately by a knock on her door. She bit her lip in anticipation and danced her way to the door, throwing it open to reveal Stevie, smiling shyly at her and holding out a bottle of wine. Twyla was dismayed to see the murky [aura](/works/20981288/chapters/49891451#note1) enveloping this bottle was even darker, as well as Stevie’s messenger bag (was it _spreading?_), but decided to ignore it for the moment, not wanting to startle Stevie again. She reached for Stevie and pulled her close, feeling herself relax as their lips met. 

Stevie kissed her back eagerly and they spent a few moments wrapped up in each other until the chill from the hallway reminded Twyla that they were still standing in her doorway. She broke off the kiss, stepped back, and gestured Stevie inside with a flourish. Stevie laughed and nodded her head regally before entering. Twyla was pleased to see that she put the wine bottle and her messenger back on the coffee table, effectively centring them in the candle ward, and she took a moment to light all of the candles and the cleansing wreath as Stevie divested herself of various outer clothing layers.

The oven timer dinged and Stevie got out plates and cutlery as Twyla pulled the steaming pie out of the oven and set it on top of the stove to cool. 

“This looks so fancy,” Stevie said, coming up behind Twyla and wrapping her arms around her. She rested her chin on Twyla’s shoulder and inhaled deeply. “Smells amazing too.”

Twyla turned around and nuzzled her nose against Stevie’s. “I hope you enjoy it. I figured tonight should be something cozy, considering.”

Stevie gulped and nodded. “Yeah,” she blew out a breath and rolled her eyes, “about that,” she paused, looking away from Twyla’s gaze. “Now that I’m sober, I’m not sure it’s worth telling.” Twyla raised an eyebrow and Stevie’s cheeks flushed. She twisted her mouth to the side in a snarky not-smile. “It’s just ... it’s silly.” She shook her head.

Twyla pulled her in and hugged her tight, not surprised that Stevie was having second thoughts. “It’s not, but it’s alright if you don’t want to tell me. We can just have dinner and hang out.”

They headed over to the couch and coffee table. Twyla was pleased to see that the murky aura around the wine had dissipated somewhat and nodded when Stevie held up the bottle in offering. The next few moments were passed in companionable silence as they dug into their dinner and polished off the first bottle of wine. 

Stevie pulled a second bottle out of her bag and the expansion of the murky aura suddenly made sense. Twyla breathed an internal sigh of relief that whatever it was didn’t seem to be spreading and that her candle ward and cleansing wreath had served their purpose. 

Picking up her newly refilled wine glass, Stevie leaned into Twyla’s side. “Was I dreaming or did you really sing ‘Songbird’ to me last night?” she asked.

Twyla kissed the top of her head. “I really did. I never realised your dad was a ledgie.” [2]

Stevie nodded. “Yeah, he spent like four years following their tour around in a camper van. That’s how he met my mom.” She sighed and pressed her face into Twyla’s chest. “You know, it’s funny, when I was a kid I refused to listen to Fleetwood Mac. He was so distraught when they broke up and I was so mad at him for being so focused on some random old band. Then when he died I found all his old records and spent a solid week just listening to them. It felt like the only way I could still connect to him, you know?”

Twyla tightened her arm around Stevie’s shoulders. “I know. I was pretty mad at them myself when I was younger. I was sure that if Mic hadn’t fired my dad, he wouldn’t have set up that ring of chicken races over in Elm Valley. Of course, I realise now that sneaking the chickens onto the tour buses is exactly why they fired him, so I decided not to blame Mic or the band. I just couldn’t hold his gambling problem against them any more. Plus, I really love that song.”

Stevie smiled up at her and Twyla felt a surge of warmth that started in her toes and traveled at the way up. “It suits you.” She pressed her lips to Twyla’s in a soft, fleeting kiss, then continued with a sheepish grin. “Also, some of their music is actually really good?”

Twyla arched an eyebrow at her and they shared a laugh. “So what’s _your_ favourite, then?”

Stevie shrugged. “Probably ‘Dreams.’ I love the imagery in it and, well, some of it resonates for me. A lot.” [3]

Twyla blinked in surprise and Stevie looked away. Twyla took advantage and kissed the shell of her ear. Now that she thought about it, this shouldn’t have been all that surprising to learn. It was a very Stevie song, although Twyla had every intention of giving Stevie a new outlook on romance.

They talked through the second bottle of wine, their words slowing, the pauses between growing longer as their lips met more and more frequently. Twyla smiled as she pulled back from yet another kiss, singing softly “I say, women they will come.”

Stevie laughed. “I certainly hope so,” she replied, waggling her eyebrows. It tickled Twyla so much that Stevie had immediately understood what she’d meant. 

She slid off the couch to kneel in front of Stevie and put her hands on Stevie’s thighs, just above her knees, squeezing lightly before sliding them up. Stevie smiled at her and covered Twyla’s hands with her own, halting her progress. She leaned forward and kissed Twyla, then rested their foreheads together.

“Wait, Twyla. I really want to let you distract me and pretend I’ve forgotten all about my promise to tell you but I haven’t and,” she paused and took a deep breath, “if I don’t tell you now, I don’t know if I ever will.”

Twyla gave Stevie’s thighs a reassuring squeeze and then sat back on her heels, projecting all the warmth and calm, steady confidence she could toward Stevie. Stevie reached for her glass of wine, only to find it empty, and Twyla waited patiently, knowing Stevie was using the wine as a cover. Even though she had just declared she was going to tell Twyla what was going on, she probably needed another minute or two to release some of her nerves and prepare herself.

Sure enough, Stevie not only opened another bottle of wine and topped up both their glasses, she cleared the dishes, and came back from the kitchen with a plate of Peppermint Persephones, which she set on the table within easy reach. Once all that had been accomplished, she sat back down on the couch and Twyla moved to sit beside her once more. Stevie took another deep breath and gave Twyla a wobbly smile. Twyla nodded her encouragement, reaching out to take Stevie’s hand.

“Ok, so,” Stevie began, then paused and bit her lip. She drank a gulp of wine and reached for a cookie, not meeting Twyla’s eyes. Looking at the cookie in her hand, she continued in a rush, “I’m-cursed-and-Christmas-is-out-to-get-me-and-I-don’t-know-why-and-I-know-it-sounds-crazy-but-I-swear-it’s-true.” As soon as she was finished, she shoved the entire cookie in her mouth, as though forcibly stopping any more words from coming out.

Twyla felt her eyes widen. A curse. Of _course_. That explained _so much_. She pulled Stevie into her arms and held her tightly, already thinking of ways they might be able to break it. “That must be so awful, Stevie. I’m so sorry.”

Stevie pushed back, out of her embrace and gave her an incredulous look. “You _believe_ me?”

Twyla cocked her head. “Of course, Stevie! Why wouldn’t I believe you?”

Stevie goggled at her. “Um, because it’s crazy to think that Christmas is out to get me? I mean, what kind of paranoid delusion is that?”

Twyla couldn’t help it, she leaned in and kissed Stevie on the tip of her nose. “You forget, Stevie, that I’ve known you for basically your whole life and that I live in this town too. I’ve known there was something odd at work during winter for awhile and I’ve been wondering about it for ages.” When Stevie gave her a deeply skeptical look, she raised an eyebrow of her own and reminded her, “I’ve seen some of the havoc wreaked by this curse first-hand but I’ve never been able to get a handle on what it is, or what the source is. Do you know about when it started?”

Stevie nodded and began to tell Twyla the history of her curse, haltingly at first and then with more and more assurance. Her words shed new light on so many things that had happened over the past decade, not least the comedy of errors that had led to their emu encounter the night before, and Twyla asked probing questions to try and understand as many details as possible. Stevie kept shooting sidelong glances at her, clearly expecting that at any moment she’d retract her faith in the truth of the curse. Twyla held her hand firmly and continued to project utmost confidence in her words. Inwardly, she hurt so much for Stevie who had been carrying this by herself for so long and was determined to do anything Stevie was open to in order to ease this burden.

As she continued recounting instance after instance of mishaps and embarrassments, Stevie started to smile more and more until she actually cackled as she described Jake and his battle for local grindr supremacy. Twyla laughed right along with her, knowing how much fun Earl and Bailey had had creating the cow profile. They’d been as surprised as everyone else when the cow had started to get matches and so they’d left it up and occasionally even arranged meet-ups at one of the local farms with a grazing herd. She and Stevie laughed together at the image of some rando pulling up and trying to figure out which cow was _the cow_.

Wiping tears of mirth from her eyes, Stevie’s face turned serious once more as she told Twyla about last year’s manifestation and the loss of her favourite scarf. Twyla made a quick mental note to finish her knitting project soon as she held space for Stevie’s story and feelings. These past few Christmases must have been so painful for her. She rubbed her free hand in soothing circles on Stevie’s back as Stevie took a fortifying sip of wine. 

“So that’s it,” she said finally. “That’s the whole sad story. Christmas hates me and there’s nothing I can do about it besides avoid people and drink a LOT of wine.” She tipped her glass in a mocking salute. 

“Wow, Stevie, that must be so hard. It’s incredible that you are still putting yourself out there at Christmas with all of this hanging over you.” Stevie gave her a _look_ and Twyla laughed, shaking her head. “I _mean_ it,” she said firmly. “This is rough and yet you helped Jake hang lights, you helped the Roses host their party last year, you even brought cider to Jocelyn’s in order to support Moira and the Jazzagals!”

“Yeah, and look how well _that_ turned out,” Stevie scoffed.

Twyla took a firm hold of Stevie’s chin and kissed her. “Listen. Maybe it didn’t go as well as it could have,” another scoff from Stevie, “but you still went. You tried and, when it started to go wrong, you tried to fix it. That’s amazing—_you’re_ amazing—and I won’t hear otherwise.” She leaned in and kissed Stevie again, doing her utmost to project her feelings of wonder and pride and faith toward Stevie.

This time when she released her, Stevie was grinning at her and Twyla felt an answering smile lift her cheeks. “So, I’m amazing, huh?” Stevie asked.

Twyla nodded, giving her a mock-stern look. “Damn straight.”

Stevie leered at her. “Well, if I’m so amazing, maybe you should show me what you meant earlier about how women were gonna come?”

“Absolutely, but first do you think the curse—”

Stevie silenced her with a finger pressed gently against her lips. “Can we not talk about this any more tonight?” she asked, her tone plaintive. “It’s a lot and I just wanna think about something else for a bit, you know?”

Twyla smiled at her and stood, reaching for her hand and then pulling Stevie to her feet. “You betcha,” she replied, tugging Stevie toward her bedroom. “I know just the thing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **1a** For general details on how I've used the cards here, please see [chapter 1](/works/20981288/chapters/49891829) of the addenda to this work.  
**1b** For specifics on how to interpret Saturday's cards, [click here](/works/20981288/chapters/49891829#note21).  
[return to fic]
> 
> **2** A Ledgie is a Fleetwood Mac fan. I don’t know if that term was in use back in the 70s and 80s but it’s what they call themselves nowadays.  
[return to fic]
> 
> **3** Stevie’s favourite Fleetwood Mac song is “[Dreams](https://youtu.be/mrZRURcb1cM).” This was written by Stevie Nicks, who Stevie is named for and, imo, is a very (pre-Twyla) Stevie song.  
[return to fic]


	7. Sunday

Twyla woke wrapped around Stevie for the second day in a row and smiled happily to herself. She could really get used to this. She gently kissed the top of Stevie’s head and then slid carefully out of bed. Stevie mumbled and curled into the warm spot she’d just vacated, but didn’t wake up. Twyla shook her head fondly and headed into the kitchen.

She got coffee prepped for when Stevie woke up and made herself an invigorating cup of cocoa. Twyla had always enjoyed the quiet solitude of mornings, centring and grounding herself anew in her rituals. She was pleased that Stevie’s presence added to her sense of fulfilment and, selfishly, that it seemed Stevie wasn’t much of a morning person. The last thing she wanted was for Stevie to feel neglected or abandoned by Twyla’s need to get up and get moving. It may have felt like a silly thing to fret over, she couldn’t _really_ imagine Stevie resenting this habit, but the anxiety was still there and she couldn’t deny how good it felt to think these two loves in her life wouldn’t be in conflict.

She heated up a generous slice of Tortière and went back to the bed, sitting next to Stevie and soaking in the sunlight. After a moment, Stevie stirred and smiled up at her sleepily.

“That smells amazing,” she murmured, adjusting her position to get a look at Twyla’s plate, then turning to look up at her with wide, puppy-dog eyes.

Twyla laughed and fed her a bite of the Tortière. Stevie wriggled up the bed a bit so she was sitting next to Twyla and for the next few moments they ate quietly, cuddled together, Twyla alternately taking bites for herself and giving them to Stevie.

When the pie was gone, Stevie pulled Twyla close and nuzzled into neck. With her lips pressed against Twyla’s pulse, she said, “Morning.”

Twyla shifted herself back a bit and then leaned in to kiss Stevie properly. They traded kisses for a few moments, soft and lazy and warm.

Stevie cupped a hand to Twyla’s cheek and spent a moment just gazing into her eyes. “I like waking up with you,” she said finally, smiling shyly.

Twyla beamed at her. “Me too.”

“Is there coffee, by any chance?”

Twyla nodded. “Just needs hot water.”

Stevie gave her a pouty look. “Why do I have to go to work?” she groaned. She burrowed under the covers and peeked out at Twyla. “Why can’t I stay here with you?”

“Capitalism?” Twyla offered helpfully and Stevie hit her with a pillow, laughing. Twyla grinned down at her. “I have to go to work, too, but, if you want, you can stay with me again tonight?”

Stevie’s eyes widened. “I’d like that, yeah,” she said, smiling and pulling Twyla down for another lazy kiss.

Twyla kissed her back happily, thrilled at the idea of having more time with Stevie to look forward to. She had been relishing this connection between them all week and not-so-secretly hoping for more. Stevie’s ready agreement to spend another night together was just the reassurance she needed.

Stevie reluctantly pulled away, pressing the tip of her nose to Twyla’s one last time before getting out of bed. “Alright, if I don’t stop now, I won’t stop at all. Let’s see about this coffee situation.”

Twlya smiled at her back as she headed toward the kitchen, then collected their breakfast plate and followed in Stevie’s wake. She needed to get going soon herself. Josué would likely already be at the café. At this point she trusted him to manage without her. She just knew that the best way to get to the end of the day was to move actively forward.

For a week that had started with her so bored, and deep in the doldrums, things were really looking up. First, she had made a new friend who was just as industrious as she was, if not more so, and she would miss Josué when he headed back to school next term. Twyla made a mental note to invite him to stop in and see her the next time he was in town, as a social visit and not a work one. She knew she’d be excited to hear about his adventures in culinary school.

Second, she and Stevie had both trusted their instincts and taken a chance that the spark they’d felt was worth following up on. She hadn’t been this enthusiastic over a potential partner in ages and something told her that she and Stevie could go the distance, if that was what they both wanted, and she was cautiously hopeful that it was. They just needed to knock out any lingering remnants of the curse and Twyla was confident that, together, they could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
**1a**  
For general details on how I've used the cards here, please see [chapter 1](/works/20981288/chapters/49891829) of the addenda to this work.  
  
**1b**  
For specifics on how to interpret Saturday's cards, [click here](/works/20981288/chapters/49891829#note22).  
  
[return to fic]  


**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas"
> 
> Tarot card images from [Vera Petruk’s Fantasy World Deck](https://www.makeplayingcards.com/sell/marketplace/fantasy-world-tarot-deck-in-color.html), which is the one Twyla uses in canon (known because the actual deck was auctioned off).
> 
> Both of these incredible women have fathers that were connected, per canon, to Fleetwood Mac. The two songs mentioned in this fic are both from the Rumours album, a masterwork of music and lyrics and _feelings_. Highly recommended. [Here's a spotify playlist of the album](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2gxq8WPAdETgeNXsEuog5I?si=BwYWJgH_Ql2nhW3Dfs058A). 
> 
> Thanks to [RhetoricalQuestions](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RhetoricalQuestions) for the info about Twyla’s tarot deck and outfits and to [whetherwoman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whetherwoman) for cheerleading and hand-holding.
> 
> Thanks also to my partner in crime in the creation of this series, the immensely talented [cupcake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nervouscupcakeinspace).
> 
> Finally, I owe such an immense debt of gratitude to [sonlali](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonlali) for this fic. Even more than the others in this series, this fic would not have made it without her support and ideas.
> 
> Thanks for reading! <3

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [addenda: if the fates allow](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20981288) by [olive2read](https://archiveofourown.org/users/olive2read/pseuds/olive2read)
  * [[art] if the fates allow](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21016049) by [nervouscupcakeinspace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nervouscupcakeinspace/pseuds/nervouscupcakeinspace)


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